


The Justicar's Dog of War

by Doirly_No



Series: The Lesser Wars [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Action, D/s, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Humor, Post Ending, Sexual Tension, Sweeter Than Expected, unusual romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:39:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doirly_No/pseuds/Doirly_No
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post ending, Shepard wants to be with Samara but her vows won't allow it.  So they enter into an unusual relationship that just barely fits into the Justicar Code, with Shepard submitting to Samara in every way.  Shepard couldn't be happier; she gets to continue fighting for a just cause while being with with the one person she completely trusts, who also happens to be the sexiest thing in the universe as far as she's concerned.  Samara however is wrestling with her feelings and her vows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. False Start

**Author's Note:**

> The only things established about Shepard are that she is paragon and an infiltrator. I hope nothing else slips in, such as how she looks. I want to interfere with head cannons as little as possible. So, just picture your Shepard.
> 
> There are BDSM elements, but they are rather soft and contained in a loving relationship.
> 
> Readers have described the relationship between Shepard and Samara as adorable and sweet. Take that for what you will.
> 
> The violent bits are more action oriented, along the lines of the games, really.
> 
> Hope you're entertained.

 

When a war ends vacuums inevitably consume the openings left. In the case of the Reaper War, a war as large as the galaxy, the power vacuums consumed entire swaths of space, even in the most stable of systems. Raiders, pirates and slavers penetrated deeper into asari controlled territory than any of the long-lived race could remember and the rebuilding efforts made it neigh impossible to stem the tide. Still an attempt had to be made to protect the innocent and level justice on the criminals that preyed upon them.

For a solid month a batarian gang had been using an asari frigate they salvaged to attack the many freighters moving supplies between planets. With the military spread so thin they rarely needed to fire more than a few shots, victims even often mistaking them for an ally. The ease at which their numerous victories came made their bellies fat, their minds lazy, their discipline lax and their ammo stocks low. Since civilian prey had little munitions to steal and they couldn’t tear themselves away from gathering more plunder to properly resupply they grew weaker with each battle even as their moral soared. So high in fact celebrations were a near nightly occurrence.

As the crew of four-eyed aliens partied one evening a small vessel carefully approached them through a hole in their sensors. A hole so obvious that scans could detect the damaged external array from outside visual range. As easy as a mosquito feeding off a black-out drunk the ship a fraction the size of the frigate attached itself to the escape pod ejection point.

The batarians’ had apparently also failed to change any of the military’s access codes as control of the frigate’s computer was obtained without resistance. Doors across the decks locked to separate the crew, not that any of them noticed. The vessel was penetrated without hassle. Through the outer hatch a pair of intruders slipped into the escape pod before gaining full access to the ship proper.

An engineer coming back from the bathroom staggered by just in time to see the odd sight of a pod opening on its own. Mumbling a curse he detoured toward the faulty piece of shit. Just a few feet away he heard the whoosh of a door behind him, but when he looked there wasn’t a soul. Before another profanity could be uttered his chest seized, needles tore at his flesh and a biotic field reaved the life from his body.

On the command deck a skeletal crew of three manned their posts, but duty was far from their minds. They passed around a bottle of spirits as they tried to talk someone over the comm. into sending up one of their asari captives. Nine minutes of fruitless persuasion finally led them to giving up and the helmsman to fetch another bottle. The instant the door opened an omni-blade tore him from nuts to neck and within seconds two pistol shots hollowed out the other two batarian’s skulls. The human infiltrator scanned the bridge once before dropping back into cloak. 

Clueless pirates were dispatched without challenge by the two intruders room by room, deck by deck. Most died sleeping in their bunks, a few manning their stations, a couple chatting in the hall and one while using the toilet. None of them had a chance to suspect their end until it had come. Along the way they managed to liberate three abused asari grateful that their nightmares were over. Only at the door to the mess hall did the invisible soldier pause the silent massacre. 

She didn’t wait long before her Justicar superior came marching down the hallway. A pleased grin hinting on her violet lips, seeing she was the second to arrive. The scans they took from their enemies’ own sensors told them that twelve batarian pirates and two asari prisoners were in the final room that required clearing. Stealth would be replaced by shock, so the human infiltrator dropped her cloak and readied a flash grenade.

Bang! All fourteen people in the mess reeled as a sharp noise stung their ears and harsh light stabbed their eyes. A wave of biotic energy threw the five gambling villains into the far wall. An entire clip of shots riddled the four huddled over the stained captives across the room. The batarian just to the left of the door, trying to blink away the stars wasn’t given enough time to recover before being eviscerated by an omni-weapon. The final two had fallen to their knees behind a long table and actually found the wherewithal to realize they were under attack.

They gathered themselves and a shotgun each before readying to return fire. The larger one, with a dark-red hue, popped up first which earned him a blow to the face and getting knocked back down. The last unscathed pirate looked over to his mate in time to see the sticky grenade adhered to his face just before it detonated, killing them both. Across the room the poker players, with the exception of the dealer with the broken neck were groaning in pain. 

The most coherent of the bunch sat up, raising his hands, “We surrender.”

Didn’t matter, the Justicar went down the line putting a slug in each of them before calling across the room, “Clear?”

“Clear, ma’am,” the human answered.

“How are those two?” the Justicar inquired.

“Their wounds are more emotional than physical,” she answered as she gently put an arm around one of the sobbing maidens and handed a medi-gel to the other.

The matriarch took a moment to suppress her building rage before ordering, “Take them to the others. I’ll return to the ship to request their retrieval.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

For several hours the infiltrator stayed by the five scared asari she saved. There wasn’t much she could do besides get them food, clothes or whatever else they wanted. Anything more would have been outside her training and comfort zone, but she tried her best and wouldn’t leave them until law enforcement arrived. Then after quite a few rounds of accepting thanks and hugs she let them go to those who could properly help them.

Not one of the asari she saved or that came to assist recognized the human in all the time she spent with them. Not one of them considered that the mighty hero and savior of the galaxy, Commander Shepard would be anywhere but a parade or ceremony in her honor. If someone so great was around she wouldn’t have to be pointed out and she sure as hell wouldn’t be taking orders from anyone or calling them ma’am.

So without fanfare the human infiltrator slipped back to her small ship the way she came in. She entered through the lower deck that consisted of a single room, where she left her weapons and stripped out of her armor. Clad in grey t-shirt and black briefs she climbed the ladder to the main deck popping out a hatch by the narrow corridor connecting the bridge to the living area. Lining the wall across from her were lockers and cabinets, the middle of which contained her clothes. Challenged by a lack of space she got dressed; putting on pants, socks and boots that would fit in any barracks. 

“Shepard,” an even voice called from the cockpit.

Greater haste took over the human’s hands as she grabbed the item that would complete her outfit and stick out like a sore thumb on board any other ship. As she near jogged down toward the cockpit she buckled the collar around her neck; it just wouldn’t fit properly under her helmet. No longer would she be the Commander; no longer would she be saluted; no longer would she give orders. No longer would she need to live up to a lionized name; no longer would she need to be recognized; no longer would she need to order others. 

Dutifully she took her spot next to the pilot’s seat, standing at attention with her hands at the small of her back, eyes on the far wall and feet a shoulder’s width apart. “Ma’am.” 

“Report,” Samara ordered.

Shepard started rattling off all pertinent information to the one person she knew she could entrust everything to and not be overwhelmed by it. Ever since they met she had been awed by the power, grace and honor that inhabited every fiber of the matriarch. It got to the point that her adoration of the asari turned to infatuation. One evening just before the trip through the Omega Relay she made her feelings known. If not for the Justicar Code Samara lived by she knew those feelings would have been returned, but still it amounted to a rejection. Out of respect she accepted the rebuffed, but in the back of her mind she never completely gave up.

Then the war ended with a blazing light that somehow left her alive and she decided that the savior of the galaxy had earned the right to spend the rest of her days however she wished. That lead to her hunting down Samara and doing whatever it took to stay by her side. After pestering the Justicar across two systems and getting into twice as many shouting arguments, Shepard found the space she could fit into in the asari’s life. She submitted completely and entirely, never would she demand to be held higher than the Code and always would she do as she was ordered to assist in fulfilling the Code.

Through her complete subjugation the great savior found a life that she feared would no longer be possible. Once again she was a soldier and not just any soldier, but the romanticized version of her dreams. No longer did she have to deal with superiors or figure out what needed to be done, she just had to do what she was told, kill the bad guys and right the wrongs. They flew from one hot spot to another like heroes that should only exist in fantasy and in between their missions of justice the boundaries of their relationship as master and servant were pushed.

When her human wrapped up, the Justicar asked, “Is that all?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Samara kept her eyes on the control panel as she piloted the ship clear of the frigate. “Then, we will be going to Illium to resupply. Compile a list of what we need.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Shepard waited for dismissal or otherwise.

After a few minutes, the elder asari commented as she entered the coordinates of their destination, “You did very well today, Shepard.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Her chest swelled a bit with pride.

The engines roared to life and Samara leaned back into her chair with an exasperated sigh. “I suppose you want a reward.”

“Justice is its own reward, ma’am.”

“That is absolutely true.” The Justicar gave a sideward glance. “However, after battles you do seem to get heated and I will probably have to deal with that primitive, human libido of yours at some point either way.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Thank you for putting up with my human failings.” Shepard kept her gaze high, posture the same as any of the thousand times she was inspected in the Alliance.

A thin grin flashed across Samara’s lips, in spite of herself. Without swiveling her chair she reached over to the belt of the human still standing at attention. Vastly skilled fingers slipped the buckle apart and undid the fly underneath. The pants failed to fall as Shepard held them in place with the hands at the small of her back. Then four blue digits found a path between the split zipper, under the shirt and over the briefs to feel what lay beneath. As casually as holding a coffee mug, she gripped the woman who maintained the disciple to keep her back straight and eyes high.

“As expected, you are already moist,” the Justicar commented, acting extensively put out by the ordeal. “Taking care of humans can be quite the bother.”

With the palm merely massaging the outside, Shepard could still answer with an even tone, “Sorry, ma’am.”

A blue finger traced either side of the excited slit a couple times before they took a brief sojourn between. Samara’s sight stayed with the soldier’s face, surveying the reactions she could wring out. When she committed to penetration she saw the jaw tighten. Lazily the knuckles submerged in couples until the last pressed to the lip. Shepard showed even greater discipline as she remained motionless for the retreat.

With skill gathered over a near millennia from experiences that may not seem directly applicable, Samara easily danced through her human’s womanhood with graceful fingers. Each passing twirl, thrust, withdrawal and twist made it more and more difficult to suppress responses. She watched teeth grind, an eye twitch and ribbons of droplets condense along the hairline, as well as feel some form in her palm. 

As minutes ticked by Shepard found it more and more difficult to remain silent or even keep her chin level as she was masturbated like a breed animal. Only when she felt a thumb begin to rub her clitoris did the breaks in her armor show. Her eyes flickered as she tried keeping them open and her shoulders rose around her ears as she tried to keep a proper posture. Inevitably the energy to resist faltered.

As soon as the woman’s spine started to curl forward, Samara chided, “Back straight, eyes forward, Shepard.”

“Yes…” she barely squeaked. “…ma’am.”

The order was followed and Shepard regained some composure. Still, she couldn’t control herself completely and involuntarily her hips rolled and rotated. That did not get corrected. Samara rather liked the feeling of the infiltrator humping her hand, so desperate for release. She also had a certain admiration for the amount of willpower displayed in holding at attention.

Finally a quivering breath shook loose from Shepard’s mouth, pulling along an extended moan. Samara felt her hand flood and the muscles she was buried in tightened. This time it wouldn’t have mattered what she said as her human had no ability to stop herself from tilting forward. Weakened knees took away stable legs and the Justicar had to help support the climaxing woman by her groin.

The matriarch waited for the ripples to run their course before giving a gentle squeeze and withdrawing. “Go clean yourself up.”

It took a moment or two for anything close to a thought to exist in Shepard’s head. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

The former commander staggered off after she re-zipped, buttoned, buckled and straightened her clothes. Samara waited a moment, to be alone in the cockpit, before bringing her hand up to see the glistening sheen covering it. A drop of human juices trailed down her wrist and without hesitation she used her tongue to retrieve it. With a long lick she traced the moisture all the way up to the end of her middle finger.

“Shepard,” the Justicar called. “I believe I wish to clean up as well.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Shepard replied excitedly between labored breaths. 

Samara took her time checking and rechecking the course she laid, partially to ensure stepping away from the controls wouldn’t lead to disaster, but mainly to give Shepard a bit of time to get ready. All concerns slain she left the controls to the computer and headed down the narrow corridor lined with storage to the modest living area, a space comparable to the commander’s cabin on the Normandy SR-2, though it had to accommodate far more. 

First, she passed through the kitchen too small to contain a refrigerator, which was housed in the hall behind her. Then she made a cameo in the den that connected directly to the bedroom without a wall between. Her destination, the bathroom, was saddled next to the kitchen, so she had to u-turn into another space barely big enough to serve its purpose. There is where she found her human.

Kneeling on a pad between the toilet and shower stall, which was only differentiated from the bathroom proper by the colors of the linoleum, was Shepard covered only by the collar around her neck, her hair still damp. In her haste to wash off before the Justicar arrived she hadn’t let the water warm up, so the cold drops clinging to her skin caused her to shiver. The hints of steam rising from the bucket next to her showed the heater did kick in, just not quite in time for her. The woman always acted a touch more submissive than the asari really required.

A word needn’t be said, as soon as red armor was in range, human fingers reached to remove it. The boots went easily, placed in a nearby bin, Samara using a hand full of hair to keep her balance. The main parts took added attention, the difficulty increased by the attendant never leaving her knees. The final piece, the crown, shed without help.

All her curvaceous glory exposed, Samara stepped into the stall and the woman at her feet followed in her subjugated position. Shepard fished the luffa sponge from the bucket of water. With the same care she’d use polishing the Venus De Milo she washed scaled, blue skin. Again her hair was used as a handle for stability as she cleansed from toe to calf twice over. From there she went up, using both hands so to feel the girth of the magnificent thighs. She continued up, wiping suds across broad hips and just under the navel, careful not to touch what lay between. To her delight the asari didn’t turn for her to do the next part and she got to reach around to knead the soap into amazingly well proportioned buttocks. This position also allowed her to come within a hair’s breadth of that which she lusted for. 

Inevitably she ran out of places to spread bubbles below the waist and placed her hands in her lap before requesting, “May I continue, ma’am?”

Samara lacked the ego to fully understand the woman’s behavior, but never-the-less, “You may.”

Shepard remoistened her sponge and before she could get to her feet, the matriarch turned her back. With great reverence the human scrubbed the muscle bound back before extending her reach along each toned arm and back to the solid shoulders. Her hands slipped into the armpits, then slid down the ribs. Reaching across the taut stomach she took time to trace each ab and thereby had no choice, not that she wanted one, to step in closer to her blue superior.

Shamelessly, the former commander pressed as much of herself against Samara’s body as possible. Her chin set itself on one of the solid shoulders. She rubbed her stiffened nipples against gentle scales as she tried all she could to find contact for her needy sex. However, being too illicit would get her scolded and rebuffed. What her hands found next did not help cool her.

Unable to stop it, Shepard released a joyful sigh as she reached the Justicar’s gloriously heavy chest. She massaged each, switching the luffa back and forth between her hands, not to better clean, but so each finger could touch the softest part of the asari unencumbered. She didn’t allow an inch to go untouched, an ounce to go unweighed or a curve to go unrecognized. To waste an opportunity to grope any of the flesh older than so many great works of art would be inexcusable.

Lost in her own little world, the woman forgot herself and the rules she swore to. The sponge dropped so she could freely squeeze one mature mammary, while the other set of fingers drifted lower. Her pinky caught briefly in the divot of a belly button. When so close, a tip touched the cleft, she was stopped.

“Shepard, I have entertained you long enough,” Samara said, resisting her own will.

“Please, ma’am,” the human begged into the skin covering the asari’s spine.

“No.” The Justicar took a single step and so far away. “Assisting you with your desires is one thing, giving into my own is another.”

“So, you have desires toward me?”

“Shepard!” Samara lashed. “Back to your knees.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Shepard sunk.

The shower rattled a moment before warm water sprayed the soap from the Justicar. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back to let everything wash away. Regret for snapping already nagging at the back of her mind. Absent-mindedly she slowly spun as her hands ran over her crest. The streams running down her body highlighted her every swerve and curve.

The human that considered herself a pet of the matriarch before her couldn’t resist and had to try to experience the asari somehow. Carefully she crept forward until she could dip her head into the liquid cascading off the blue goddess. Hunched over as low as possible while still remaining on hand and knee she let her hair be rinsed by second hand water. Growing bolder she lifted her face to catch the stream running directly off the labia with her mouth.

Samara tilted her head back down as she opened her eyes and saw the water washing over the woman below her. She couldn’t bring herself to interrupt right away. Something was defiantly wrong with this and she was almost positive that it wasn’t Shepard. When her brain started trying to figure out what was, she felt the need to leave. The shower ceased and she stepped around the fawning human, her fawning woman; she had already taken responsibility. 

As Samara began to dry herself, a task she usually left to her subordinate these days, she said, “I care for you deeply Shepard, more deeply than any in centuries, but I am still a Justicar.”


	2. Groundwork

 

“You sure you’re strong enough for this, ma’am?” the question sarcastic.

“I have been strong enough since before your people had firearms,” said with half a grin.

Joking aside, their final preparation made, the operation began. Within the following twenty minutes the contact was met and the Justicar was led to the last hotel before the city line. At the backdoor a hired, asari thug joined her escort. Twice in the intervening trip to their seedy destination the matriarch warned the two not to stand too close and despite being criminals they still held enough reverence for the noble calling, so indeed backed off. 

The basic, hotel room was as to be expected; no windows, bathroom to the left, the main space split in two and stains applied liberally all around. The number of gang members was four more than expected however. Besides the two that came in with her, she could hear someone using the facilities, six hanging around the dual beds with pill bottles and weapons strewn about, and in the rear were another four. Every one of them an asari save the nude, turian prostitute nuzzling the jaw line of the boss on the couch in the back. 

The violet, matron leader started, “Greetings Justicar, I am Nax. To what do I own the pleasure of your exalted presence?”

“I require the location of your hallex supplier,” Samara stated.

“Now why would I tell you that?” the cocky criminal asked.

The amateurish show of power left the veteran Justicar unphased. “Why is of no concern, you simply will.”

“Hmmm,” Nax pretended to consider as she drew little circles on the metallic back next to her. “I dunno, what is in it for me?”

Samara then noticed the nerves ravaging the face to the far left. “You, maiden, do you know where the hallex is produced?”

The matron’s veneer of competence broke and she spat, “Hey, I’m in charge here.”

“Answer me.” Samara ignored the fool.

“I… I…” was all she gave besides panicked eyes, but it was enough.

“I’m tired of this,” Nax tried to reassert herself. “I only allowed you here to ambush you anyway...”

“She’s the one,” the agent of justice signaled.

Biotics flared, throwing every one of varying levels of guilty into the walls. The cloak dropped as Shepard let go of the Justicar’s back and took her first shots before hitting the ground. The escorts from outside died first to her pistols. Then she spun around to clear out the drugged up six. As she reloaded the goon in the bathroom burst out with a sniper rifle, of all things. Not having the time for new clips, the former commander bum rushed, but only got half way to her foe before a slug whizzed over her shoulder and dropped the ill equipped criminal. The wound wasn’t lethal, but the infiltrator moved to take care of that.

Samara turned back to the still living. The remaining thug pulled a gun, but her arm was bioticly snapped before the trigger pulled; in case the maiden proved uninformed. Nax however, got one between the eyes as soon as she tossed her whore off.

“Where are the drugs produced?” the Justicar asked calmly, but sternly.

Full of terror, the young asari could barely even answer, “I… I… maybe…”

“If you tell me, you will live.”

“But, they’ll kill me.”

“No need to be concerned, none of them will survive their encounter with me.”

Then an unexpected voice chimed in, “I can tell you.”

Samara shifted focus to the turian female. “How would you know?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve partied with them.” The prostitute shamelessly sat splayed.

“If you…” the asari with the broken arm’s last words before Shepard arrived with her pistol.

“Wait!” the last breathing criminal yelled. “I’ll tell you. Let me tell you.”

“You can confirm each other’s stories before I let you go, but be warned: if either of you prove my mercy misplaced, be assured, I will still accomplish my goal and then I will come back for you.”

With the intelligence gathered they gleamed the location of the factory of the fledgling, drug cartel attempting to establish itself on Nevos. With the added information from the turian a means of infiltration became apparent. It seemed that the wannabe syndicate frequented a local, escort service and was always interested in fresh meat, ready to pay a pretty penny on their entertainment. They also didn’t skimp on their defenses. They had moved into an abandoned, raid shelter, hired decent mercenaries including krogans and most importantly had salvaged several turrets. 

It would take some time to establish a cover to get in, so the vigilante tandem returned to their ship to rest and plan. Though, Shepard took a detour to buy enough food for the next few days. Along the way she spotted a boutique and thought to get an idea of what she’d wear undercover; if only to brace herself. Looking through the window told her the clothing inside would be too high class, but still she figured it couldn’t hurt to browse.

After her shopping trip Shepard reentered the ship through the primary entrance, rather than the one a deck below used for assaults, though both attach to the same narrow corridor. Carrying four bags of groceries, plus one other, up the metal ladder would have been a major pain. Still she could not avoid descending it to store her weapons, after putting away the food. On the way down she was disappointed to hear the shower turn on.

Ever since leaving Illium Samara had kept a little extra distance. Their whole relationship hinged on the Justicar rationalizing away her actions and outright denying her true feelings. Directly confronting her with it stoked the crisis of faith simmering within her. The matriarch could forsake neither the Code nor Shepard.

The human temptress popped up to the main level, still carrying one parcel and not hearing running water. Now free of her armor she was able to put her collar back where it belonged. With hope swirling around her heart she headed for the bathroom, but it was in the den that she encountered the still nude Justicar. An unreadable stare froze the woman in place for near a minute. 

Samara moved first, closing enough of the distance separating them to hook two fingers through the D-ring linked to the collar. None too gently Shepard was yanked, jolting the parcel from her hand, and then dragged along to the bathroom. Her steps awkward and pace forced to the point she nearly fell when passing the sink. With a final jerk she was practically thrown against the rear wall of the shower, the briefest of pains streaked her shoulders. Once her back was firmly planted to the linoleum, the digits at her throat tugged upward to straighten her spine and ensure her eyes would meet the crystal blue orbs of her asari owner.

Samara gave a firm slap between Shepard’s legs. “Take them off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The grip of her collar not relenting, the pinned woman struggled to get her briefs off her hips, so thought giving proper access was all she needed to do and stopped when air brushed lips.

“I said off.” Punctuated with another slap.

Shepard used every tiny fraction of an inch her arms could stretch while being held upright to push the black cloth down. Eventually she had to wiggle and twist her legs this way and that until she finally felt the briefs release, falling to the floor. Just to make sure she then kicked them away.

“I wish to take care of this quickly so I can meditate.” Without further delay Samara’s fingers nimbly found the human’s clitoris.

“You don’t have to, ma’am.”

“I decide what I must do and what you must do.” The matriarch demanded eye contact with only her expression. “And I must do this or you will give me pleading looks the rest of the evening.”

The relentless hand molesting her figuratively and literally drove Shepard up the wall both. She rose off her heels. Lust corrupted her thoughts. Nothing mattered beyond the fingers giving her pleasure. So she wasn’t really thinking when she reached for a blue hip.

It didn’t go unnoticed, not for an instant. “You will keep your hands behind your back.”

Ultimatums and threats weren’t needed; Shepard always followed orders like any good soldier. She dutifully put her palms against the wall and braced to ride things out. Ride she did as the fingers inside her and rubbing across her were insistent and demanding. Her orgasm would come quickly, no matter what her opinion may be. She didn’t care and surrendered to it. After several minutes of unbridled stimulation her head collapsed back and her eyes fluttered close.

“Look at me.”

The unexpected, unprecedented order got Shepard’s immediate attention. Highly dilated eyes stared back at her. There was a look in them she had never seen before and could therefore not quite place. Whatever it was it immediately, instinctively pushed her into higher realms. In less time than normal the spasms emanated out from her core. Tremors shook her thighs and vibrated up her abs, then jiggled her breasts under her shirt. All with her gaze ardently locked to the Justicar’s.

“Wash, eat, sleep,” Samara stated as the woman came down. “Tomorrow the difficult work of this operation begins.”

With that the superior left, scooping up the delicates discarded minutes ago to wipe her hand. In the den she noticed the bag from a shop she didn’t recognize. She opened it to see floral print and lace. Shepard only ever wore the most basic of underwear, so Samara was uncertain why such a purchase was made, though she could guess. Frustration took hold of her, but she was unsure with whom to place it.


	3. The Night Before

 

After a week of preparation and with twenty hours to go Samara sat in the cockpit running a simulation for the seventh time to ensure the next day’s operation would happen without a hitch. Then she ran the simulation for the back-up plan for the sixth time. As every other, nothing went wrong and her fears were proven false. Still, she ran both once more. What they would attempt was unlike anything they’ve done before and made the centuries old alien worried. No matter what the computer or Shepard said each passing day deepened her concern.

In order to keep hold of her sanity she finally had to push away and retire for the evening. For the first time since acquiring Shepard’s services she was regretting the decision and wishing for the days when only her own life was at stake. This plan, mostly concocted by her subordinate, was just too dangerous. Fingers massaging her forehead she wandered down the corridor. 

She called down the hatch to the armory, “Shepard are you finished with your calibrations?”

“Almost, ma’am. Just five more minutes.”

“Very good,” and Samara continued on.

She didn’t stop until she ran out of rooms to cross, which put her where they slept. Filling the back right corner was a king sized bed, parts of which had never been used while the other corner had a simple pad and bedroll. For the seven minutes it actually took for Shepard to finish her tasks the matriarch stood halfway between, lost in thought.

Hearing bare footsteps approach she asked the wall, “Is everything prepared?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Samara turned around and her eyes couldn’t help flicking down. The former commander always wore fatigues not too different from when she still was in the Alliance, but tonight her dress was far more casual. From below a normal, khaki t-shirt peeked prints of purple flowers on panties cut far higher than any other she’d seen on the woman. As her vision lifted she also noted another garment’s lines in the cloth top. Not needing anyone’s approval but her own, the asari strode over and lifted the shirt to reveal matched demi-cups. Shepard released a surprised gasp, but kept her arms out of the way. The involuntary flashing lasting longer than needed to identify the article of clothing. 

“I have never seen you wear a brassiere before,” Samara commented.

Shepard came up with the excuse, “It’s for the operation, ma’am.”

The Justicar gave an unbelieving glance and let go of the shirt. “So, you are ready then?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

After a sustained silence the superior of the two said, “I am having reservations. Sending you in completely unarmed, without even an omni-tool, is far too great a risk.”

“I will accomplish my mission, ma’am.”

“That is not where my reservations lie. Perhaps I should be the one to go in.”

“How many matriarchs are prostitutes?”

Samara hesitated, but eventually gave a slight nod. “Get some sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Shepard dimmed the lights before retreating to her spot in the corner while the Justicar turned the opposite way to shed her armor, a special place for it at the foot of her bed. When it all was off she looked over to the human on the ground, seeing only her back. She slid onto the mattress as far as she could reach with her feet on the floor. Again her gaze went across the room, a lump forming in her throat from the fear she would never again see this specific sight.

“Shepard,” she called. “Come here.”

The woman shifted to her back to look over and saw a soft smile being returned that doubled Shepard’s will to follow the order. She scurried over, never concerned about looking a fool around her owner. At bedside she stood at attention, eyes to the wall no matter how much she desired to drag them along the blue goddess bathed in muted light before her. The brain cells not drowned in hormones could only manage the task of maintaining proper posture, so she didn’t think to say anything.

Samara had already received exactly what she wanted; a poorly-contained, goofy, Shepard smile. “If you can behave yourself, you may sleep over here tonight.”

“I promise, ma’am!” she blurted already beginning to climb on to the mattress.

“Shepard,” the asari said, pressing a hand to the woman’s sternum. “I am sure you have noticed I only wear my Justicar armor.”

“Yeah.” The human’s already distracted brain was having trouble figuring out why she wasn’t yet lying down let alone why her owner’s armor mattered, so it took a few seconds for her to add, “…ma’am.”

“I would find it difficult to sleep having the material of clothing like yours rubbing against me.”

The woman’s cheer fell as eagerness blunted her thinking and mumbled, “Yes, ma’am.”

A chuckle threatened Samara’s lips. “Dressed as you are, you will have to lie on the other side of the bed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” A defeated Shepard crawled over the asari to the open half of mattress.

“Shepard.” The matriarch traced her fingers along the confused human’s jaw to state the obvious, “Take off your clothes.”

The khaki shirt launched across the room. With great amusement, Samara watched her young pet fall over unhooking her bra. Then with her hair still pressed to the sheets yanked the bikini cut panties off with her butt pointing directly at the asari. The show didn’t last long before the overeager woman completed her roll and sat a moment wrestling the garment off her feet. Only pausing long enough to aim, Shepard then dove for heaven.

“Sheet,” Samara teased as the body settled under her arm.

Faster than could be noticed Shepard pulled away to grab the red, silk cover and reinsert herself where she belonged. Once there she wrapped her arms and a leg around blue flesh. She took as tight a grip as she could without causing discomfort to Samara, having to resist the temptation to move her hand higher than the lower ribs. Her comfort found, she snuck a kiss on the clavicle.

Samara returned one to the top of the head. “Remember, you promised to behave.”

“I’ll be a good girl,” she purred in response.

The elder Justicar stared at the ceiling, stroking soft hair until she heard light snores and felt breaths shallow against her scaled skin. Petting her human proved infinitely soothing and kept her worries at bay. In the lovely serenity she found, she conceded Shepard would eventually defeat her. Only a week ago she had nearly given in, nearly joined when they were in the shower. Still she had yet to find reconciliation with the Code.


	4. The Mission

 

After a more restful sleep than expected the night before assaulting a well fortified drug lair, Samara awoke to Shepard breaking her promise. A hand had a healthy hold on one of her well-endowed breasts and when she shifted slightly, the fingers released a second only to take a more assertive grip. The shift also got the human’s hips to move and she felt cool air touch her leg in a rather confined spot. Careful not to wake the sleeping woman, she reached down to find a damp patch on her thigh. She relaxed again and considered what to do, weighed by what soon would happen. 

Samara gently tugged the collar of the woman snuggled against her. “Wake up, Shepard.”

She answered before really waking, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Shepard.” The tug harder this time.

This time the human’s eyes opened halfway, her fingers retained their hold. “Oh, good morning, ma’am.”

“Shepard, you disobeyed me.”

That got consciousness to arrive. “What!? No!”

Samara closed her hand around the one groping her chest. “Then what is this?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Shepard pulled away, immediately prostrating herself hands, knees and forehead pressed to the mattress. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” The Justicar propped herself up on an elbow, grabbed a handful of hair and pulled it to the wet spot on her thigh. “Explain this then.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Whether you meant to or not, you have soiled my leg.” Samara held her human inches away. “Clean it.”

Shepard started to move, but the hand gripping her didn’t, “How, ma’am?”

“I am sure you can figure something out.”

The woman’s eyes lit up realizing the implication. “Yes, ma’am!”

They had been together for months, but never had Shepard been allowed to touch her owner in an intimate way outside the shower and even there she had many limitations. For the first time she would taste asari skin and know what those tiny scales felt like against her tongue. Savoring the moment, she extended the lithe, pink muscle for her mouth and pressed as much of it as she could against the blue flesh. 

Slowly she dragged her flattened tongue along the matriarch’s thigh, gathering her own nocturnal excretions as she went. The swath she cut went far past the wetness, on until her forehead pressed to the other leg. With nowhere left to go she returned to her original position, just an inch to the side, and repeated. The spot she had made was minor, but she licked as if she had to clean the entire asari. She just hoped she’d be allowed to continue until she had removed her own juices completely and would be able to taste only the Justicar.

Samara tightened her grip on the hair and pulled her devotee away. “You can finish up later. We must prepare.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Instantly her lust was suppressed and she flipped the switch back to soldier. 

“Yes, ma’am,” the same two words calmly repeated six hours later just before Shepard left Samara’s sight.

Ten miles away from a population center on Nevos a bunker had been buried that could protect thousands from Reaper attacks though probably not from a full scale invasion, luckily it had never been put to that test. The defenses were largely still in place, a heavy turret still sat over the cement entrance, but was just for show. No matter how many bribes they paid, there was no way a rocket launcher would be allowed to remain in the hands of a criminal organization within firing range of a major city. 

A battle-worn krogan named Chic approached the entrance built into the side of a mountain with a human escort under his arm. Several jealous looks following him as everyone else had been told all the boys and girls from the service would be otherwise occupied. The good looks of the woman didn’t ease the envy any. Her tight, black, leather outfit hugged every curve she had and the bright pink hair on the top of her head made sure no one would miss the chance to notice her walk by. Each of her steps jingled with the excess of jewelry draped over her in an attempt to make her look more high-class than she was.

They walked down a hundred meter staircase and then another hundred meter hall carved into the bedrock, every twenty a pair of turrets stood sentry. Twice scanners checked her every nook and cranny looking for any weapons, biotic implants, omni-tools or dangerous substances that she may have concealed. Neither time did so much as an OSD show up; those from the escort service knew better. After the first set of blast doors it opened up into a lobby with a second three foot thick barrier ready to shut out any enemy at the other end of the room. To each side where hallways that connected to varying barracks, storage and command centers.

As she was steered to the left a middle-aged human called, “Hey, Chic how the fuck you get a girl?”

“They can’t keep their hands off me Jimmy,” the krogan laughed as he felt up his woman for the night.

“How ‘bout ya share bud?” the bald man asked as he caught up. “You owe me one.”

Chic tightened his grip and asked, “How about it babe?”

“Don’t know how much good I’ll do ya after the big guy here gets done.”

The mercenary took a hold of her butt and asked, “How about you leave this just for me then?”

“Cost you extra and I sure as shit ain’t doing ya both together.”

The deal made the three headed down the hall lined with rooms. Just before leaving the lobby she looked over her shoulder for eyes following her ass. She peeked in any door that may have been open and saw nothing but private quarters and personal effects. A third of the way from the end they turned into some sort of entertainment den, filled with screens, card tables and a stripper pole, but no bed in sight. Rather the bed was in a large closet at the back of the room.

The bald man took a spot outside the door, Chic handing him his gun. The woman on the krogan’s arm scanned the room once before being shut in with the oversized alien. The ultimate romantic he immediately dropped trow and plopped himself on the bed. Punctuating his feelings with a point to his crotch.

As ordered, the woman climbed up on him, but her excess of clothing made him ask, “Gonna be hard to get down to business with all that stuff on.”

“Don’t worry, I got something special in mind,” she teased as she traced his lower lip with a thumb.

The digit rubbed back and forth a few times her eyes following it closely. After a few swipes it dipped a little further in to feel the teeth behind. None of this had any appeal and he hoped it wouldn’t last much longer. She gave him a wink and without a thought he opened his mouth a bit wider. Then the look in her eye turned cold.

Shepard surged, jamming her arm down the krogan’s throat, putting all her weight behind it. Elbow deep she closed her fist. It took the first missed breath for him to realize something had gone wrong and instinctively bit down. Her bracelets and the weak jaw evolution gave him made that futile. Next he tried to close his arms to crush the little bitch, but couldn’t solidify his grip before a thumb popped his eyeball, releasing a stream of blood. Pain seized his body. 

All she could do was keep up the pressure and wait for him to suffocate; she thought it unlikely that the krogan would bleed out from the small wound. Occasionally he would flail an arm to hit the wall in a poor attempt to call for help. After thirty seconds without breathing he made his last ditch effort, but that was cut off by a well placed stomp to his quad. He had a slow, horrid death, but the hired gun for a drug cartel wasn’t exactly an innocent bystander. She waited a couple minutes beyond the end of the struggling, unsure how many lungs a krogan had. Pulling away, she took a moment to wipe her hands with the ratty blanket. 

The sound of Chic dying apparently sounded the same as him fucking, because Jimmy hadn’t cared about the loud banging of the alien’s fist against the wall. He looked up from his issue of Fornax with a letch’s smile when she came out of the room early. As she approached him the thought something was off struck him, but his concern retreated when she grabbed a bottle of ryncol. His friend loved the stuff.

Shepard didn’t break stride as she hurled the booze at the nit-wit. The krogan cocktail burned like acid in his eyes and mouth, not that he had too long to experience the pain. As soon as she reached the writhing man she wrapped her necklace around his throat and pulled. The thin chain sliced into his neck, cutting off the blood to his head and air to his lungs. She left the costume jewelry on him.

Almost out the door she grabbed a bottle of asari wine, swished it through her mouth and spit it out. She then headed down the hall, with a slight stagger to her step. Not one of those she passed gave her a second thought, drunks common place. In the lobby she was able to gather a few second glances though, none doing more than stripping her naked. She scanned, avoiding eye contact with all but the asari with a slight build leaning against a wall, who received a wink and a smile

Taking the hint the blue alien sauntered over, “Shouldn’t you be entertaining a couple of my friends, girlie?”

“Yeah, but it turns out krogans are a bit bigger than I thought,” she said with a hint of fear. “Figure a place like this would have something to loosen me up.”

The criminal stepped close enough to smell alcohol laden breaths. “Well there is plenty of hallex around, but I don’t know how well it works for humans.”

“I can think of a way to find out,” the escort flirted.

“What about Chic and Jimmy?”

“I think they can wait. Plus, your friends don’t seem like the sensitive type, so I could use someone to warm me up.”

“How much would that cost me?”

“Say,” she weighed her worth. “A few pills and an O?”

The asari glanced back at her superior who rolled her eyes and gave a nod. Taking hold of the whore’s hand she made for the factory. Pass the giant gates that could seal out an army, several dozen very young maidens worked mixing chemicals, crushing the results into powder and using machines to put them into pills, then bottles. Their operation only taking up a fraction of the overall space that could fit thousands of refugees. She headed for one of the near crates that had yet to be closed, but the human trailing gave a tug and pointed to a more secluded corner.

Popping a bottle open, the thug fished out a pill and turned around with it in her mouth. The intent obvious enough, the woman took the offer and locked lips. To the asari’s surprise the drug was pushed into her mouth by a pink tongue, not that she had never partaken. She was also surprised by how forcefully the prostitute pushed her backward, to the point she felt hands lift her off the ground.

Shepard carried the alien she was kissing toward a terminal halfway beyond any of the barrels or crates full of drug manufacturing supplies. With a thud they slammed into the wall with as much force as one would expect in a heated moment of passion. Then using greater strength, the infiltrator punched the casing of the oversized, panic button next to the blue mercenary’s head. 

Blaring sirens and pulsing red-lights filled the entire structure as a shield immediately sealed off the main shelter, to give time for the immense doors to slide shut. The kiss broke, the asari dropped to her feet. The strong hands that had held her up grabbed her skull and bashed it into the concrete, leaving blood staining the wall.

The criminals and thugs in the lobby watched the doors all around them close, not entirely concerned. It must have been a malfunction. The six who monitored the workers started wandering toward the shutting door, weapons low, exchanging questioning looks with those outside.

Calmly, Shepard recovered the unconscious asari’s assault rifle. Yet to be seen, she circled around to an advantageous spot in the shadows to wait for the gate to seal. As soon as she heard the locks engage she put a slug in the thug she’d knocked out to make sure she wasn’t getting back up, as well as put everyone on edge. So the workers would react quicker to her next burst of fire.

Everyone without a gun hit the floor when one of the guards dropped dead. It wasn’t until half of them were down that any of them realized where the shots were coming from. Two more standing too close together were taken out before they could return fire. Then after a brief exchange the last was neutralized.

“Everyone proceed to the back of the shelter and lie on your stomachs. I do not consider you my enemies and do not wish you any harm,” Shepard yelled.

The offer was immediately taken. The human returned to the terminal. The controls for the shelter pretty basic, so that in a worst case scenario any civilian could operate them. However, the cartel had put security measures in place to limit the number of people with access. None of which stood much chance against a highly-trained infiltrator. 

A quick check revealed the turrets were not in the system, so she couldn’t turn them on their owners. The plan didn’t require them; it would have been more a nice bonus. She disabled the outer vents, internal sensors and door locks. Then she told the computer that the facility had been overrun and there was a noxious gas in the main shelter. Throughout the instillation micro explosives physically isolated every terminal but hers and the ducts overhead opened fully to begin cycling the air.

She left the terminal for the stacks of containers all around. She had memorized five different ways to combine the chemicals it took to produce hallex into poisonous gas. The lids to barrels filled with a rather benign substance were torn off as quickly as possible. After a short search she found the smaller, red crates held her second ingredient and the yellow ones had the acid she needed. Luckily a drug factory wasn’t suffering for measuring devices.

Just over forty minutes later the criminals in the complex, who still didn’t know what was happening or why the terminals all seemed broken, noticed a dark mist falling out of the vents. Anyone who wasn’t krogan or turian immediately started coughing while their eyes watered. Nothing mattered more to them than fleeing to an exit. After a short time even those of the initially unaffected races felt a mild burning in the backs of their throats, enough to persuade them to leave too. 

A thousand meters away Samara watched the entrance of the bunker, an eye regularly checking the time. It felt like the next part of the plan was long overdue, but the clock told her otherwise. Another hour would need to pass before she should worry. She tried to settle herself, tell herself worrying was pointless, but her tightened chest wouldn’t listen.

Ten minutes ahead of schedule she saw the first people fleeing. Her nerves calmed and her focus heightened. Her gaze bouncing between direct looks and checking her omni-tool connected to a bug they planted near the door a day ago. She had to make sure the bunker had emptied before she acted. So she waited until at least fifty came out, which assumed about three dozen exploited workers and around ten killed by Shepard would be staying inside. It took awhile, but eventually a few straggling krogans came out to reach the quota and join their cohorts being screamed at by their pissed, matron leader. 

Feeling the time right, Samara looked skyward to a cluster of twinkling lights that spit twin comets when she entered the final command. Her ship initiated its program to unleash a strike against the criminal base, air bursting two warheads over the bewildered gang, before piloting itself back to port. The explosions instantly flattened everything within fifty meters, kicking up clouds of dust and wiping away evidence anything living ever stood there. When the haze dissipated the local authorities moved in on the unscathed bunker entrance to clean up.

The Justicar’s chest ached with concern while she waited the hours it took to clear the noxious smog and hours more for the police to assault the base. Turrets had to be neutralized, doors penetrated, exploited workers saved and the few criminals that had survived to be arrested. Only after all that could the engineers be sent in to override the main gate. 

She knew there was no way for the plan to succeed if Shepard had died, but still the pain behind her ribs persisted as she waited to see the human again. Finally, more than half a day after last seeing her, Shepard came walking down the road. It was hard to recognize her through the dyed hair and ridicules outfit. At one point she saw the woman bring a hand to her nose to sniff, which was odd. Not for a second would Samara’s eyes waver from the infiltrator from the moment she came into view until she stood at attention before her.

Shoulders squared, spine straight and hands at the small of her back, Shepard greeted, “Ma’am.”

A moment of weakness overcame Samara and she wrapped her arms around the woman. “I am grateful to see you again.”

“Were you worried?” she asked, unsure whether to hug back or not.

“I was,” the asari answered as she regained her control and broke the embrace.

“Not to over step my bounds, ma’am,” the former commander said with an amused grin. “But, did you forget who I am?”

“I suppose I did.” Samara then confessed, “Still, I worried and perhaps felt guilt about putting you in such a situation that risks your life in order to fulfill my Code.” 

“But, I’m the hero,” Shepard began, feeling the need to make the one she adored understand in no uncertain terms. “And I like being the hero. I never liked all the distractions like paper work and dealing with the Council, but I always liked being the hero. I think there is no greater honor than for someone to point at me and say, there’s the hero. I mean, I’m the biggest one this galaxy has ever seen and they wanted to turn me into a living monument. Sitting me on a beach to enjoy my well earned rest, or whatever. I’ve never even stuck a toe in the ocean, only times I’ve been on a beach I was in my boots. But because of you, I get to still be the hero when it matters and then nothing when it doesn’t. I get to fight for a noble cause then I get to go home, turn my brain off and revert to baser instincts. Be completely selfish and leave everything to you. On the ship all I got to do is what you tell me to and I really like what you tell me to do, even if I wish you’d tell me to do a little more. Really, this has been a great day for me. I woke up next to you then I got to kill the bad guys and save the day. I was the hero today and I know you will lead me to many more great days.” 

“I see,” obviously not knowing how to respond.

Then to lighten things Shepard added, “Plus, I’ve always had a thing for older women and you’re like the Holy Grail.”

Unsure why she was called a divine cup the asari shifted topics, “Let us return to the ship and get you out of those awful clothes and wash that stuff out of your hair.”

“You don’t like?”

“Not even a little,” Samara answered with a deepening smile.


	5. The True Beginning

 

Four days later the small, customized vessel with a crew of two departed the Teyolia System for destinations unknown. Shepard thought it odd that their next mission had yet to be chosen, they had been jumping from one operation to the next without respite since their first. The times they lived in made it easy to find injustice and evil, to the point they had a prioritized list. Only a couple button presses would be necessary to bring the requests for help to a screen and pick one. She had complete trust in the Justicar so didn’t question her decision and kept to just wondering. A rest couldn’t hurt though.

As the collared human began doing the dishes she heard the familiar call, “Shepard.”

Immediately what she was doing didn’t matter and she raced to the cockpit to stand at attention next to the pilot’s chair. “Ma’am.” 

Samara finished typing a command before shifting her focus, “There is an odd sound coming from under that terminal. See if you can fix it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Immediately she fell to her knees to get to work.

“What are you wearing, Shepard?” the matriarch asked when she saw a red string on a partially exposed hip.

The woman pulled out her head and sat back on her haunches to answer, “What was that, ma’am?”

“Your clothing is different today, why?”

She looked down at herself, still confused. “You mean my shirt? I don’t know, I guess it is a bit shorter than usual.”

Feigning frustration, Samara ordered, “Stand up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Shepard stood to attention.

As had happened many times on that spot, deft hands took hold of the infiltrator’s belt, but she didn’t really understand why. She had gotten a passing, not entirely fulfilling ‘reward’ the night after the operation and figured the reason had to do with fatigue. Still, this didn’t fit the pattern nor did the sharp yank that stopped her from holding up her pants. Even with her trousers pooled around her ankles Shepard stood tall; just her cropped shirt and scant, red g-string giving her any modesty.

“Why are you wearing such provocative underwear?” Samara asked leaning back, arms crossed.

“I bought them for the mission and didn’t want them to go to waste?” the human guessed more than stated.

“I will not tolerate lies, Shepard,” said coldly.

In a rare moment of insecurity Shepard answered, “I guess I thought you may like…”

Samara interrupted the slowly forming answer, “So, you are trying to entice me?”

“I guess…”

Quickly the Justicar shot, “Shepard!”

“Yes, ma’am,” the subordinate said like a scolded child. “I was, ma’am”

“Do you wish me to violate the Code?”

“No…” a guilty Shepard mumbled.

“Go change into proper attire immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman began to bend to pull her pants off the floor, but a foot held them down. “You can put these back on when you return.”

Shepard slunk out of the cockpit, her displayed ass closely watched. At her locker she pressed her head to the door, fogging the polished metal a few times before stepping back to open it. She was confused by the mood swings from her asari owner, not thinking thousand year old beings still even got them. They would have been easy enough to deal with, but those shifts in attitude had effected her care and maintenance. Namely: she hadn’t gotten a decent release in over a week and taking care of it herself was forbidden. When she let herself, she had a libido that could rival a high-school, football team and going without this long was getting torturous.

Conveniently, just as the human threw her shirt into the locker, leaving her in the skimpiest of bra and panties, Samara arrived, “I have been reflecting on your words on Nevos.”

“You have, ma’am?” a surprised Shepard asked.

“Yes, I have come to realize how selfish I have been. Only beholden to the Code, my vows and to justice. The people always secondary, simply means for which to demonstrate my justness. I now see yours, the path of the hero, may be the more noble than that of the Justicar,” After a pause for effect she added, ”And I believe that heroes have fewer restrictions on the relationships they may pursue.”

With her final word Samara released a clasp on either shoulder of the already loosened armor. With the flicks the whole of it fell to the floor with a thump revealing nothing but blue. She stepped from the pile to take a deliberate pace toward her human, who had yet to so much as flinch. Once close enough she shut the locker for the stunned Shepard then leaned in to brush a kiss across her lips. Not feeling anything need be said to make her offer, the asari continued on.

Shepard’s head swiveled to follow the body she worshipped, having yet to gain the use of her legs. Not hearing feet falling into line behind, the matriarch turned back to see what was amiss. Their eyes locked, the asari’s look one of slight confusion while the human’s a completely unreadable, blank stare.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” The infiltrator began to finally move. “I can’t give you what you want, not any more. You’ve waited too long and teased me too much.”

Samara’s heart sunk, but only an instant before buoying to her throat in fear as the expression on Shepard’s face tightened and she demonstrated her strength. With powerful hands she took hold of the cups covering her chest. A single jerk overexerted the hooks on the back and the lingerie was thrown to the floor. Then one took hold of the strip concealing her crotch, turning it into a scrap of fabric not big enough to be a rag.

“No, it’s too late for just a kiss and a wink.”

As the wild human slowly approached, the bewildered asari backpedaled with matching steps. They sized each other up as if a battle neared. Her experience tied to fighting criminals, the matriarch didn’t know how to deal with predatory animals and she committed the most grievous of errors. Samara turned to run, breaking Shepard’s stupor and the pursuit was on.

Sadly, Samara slipped at the transition from hallway to kitchen. In a second she was tackled from behind, knocking lose a shriek she hadn’t made since she was a maiden. Her feet left the floor, the bear hug around her waist kept her aloft all the way to the breakfast nook. None too gently she was slammed down, the edge of the table bit into her hips as the human’s weight pressed her.

“Shepard, no,” the asari scolded as she tried to shake the woman off. “Bad Shepard. No. Stop this.”

The former commander wasn’t listening, she rather suck at the junction of the blue neck. One hand tried to wedge itself underneath to grope a trapped breast while the other slipped along the jaw to turn the head into a passionate kiss. Her captive proved too nimble as the pursed lips kept evading to the opposite side from where she made her strikes. Eventually she decided to settle for returning to nibbling skin and focusing on another flank.

When a hand finally dug its way deep enough to tweak a nipple, Samara’s counter attack began. She made a jerk to the right, enough to get most of the weight off her. Quickly she followed with a roll, but was undone by the small dimensions of the table and the pair fell off on to the bench attached to the wall. They landed with her on top looking into the human’s mischievous eyes. A moment’s hesitation proved costly and before she could pull away fingers laced behind her neck to pull her into a desperate kiss. The passion and need behind the embrace caused a temporary surrender.

Feeling the struggling subside, Shepard’s hold lessened as both hands drifted. The arm against the wall snaked under the asari’s to wrap around and hold the opposite shoulder to seal their bodies together. The other went lower so she could squeeze the generous swell of Samara’s bottom. Their tongues danced around each other, neither looking for dominance, just wanting to explore and feel. Without intending to her leg split the alien’s.

The persistent thigh rubbing against her azure got the matriarch to remember herself. She couldn’t allow this to continue, no matter the amount of desire in her own heart. This had to happen on her terms, she had to take control. With the grip too weak to keep her, she mustered the strength to pull away using the tabletop as her escape route. 

It took only a second for Shepard to realize her prisoner had gotten away and give pursuit. She scurried under the table and into the next room. Once she got fully upright her eyes reengaged Samara’s, who stood next to the bed having regained her composure.

“Shepard,” the nude matriarch demanded sternly. “If you continue like this I will be forced to punish you. Now, on your knees.”

The human bore her teeth and renewed her advance. After a few steps she broke into a full on charge. Just before impact Samara leaned in with her shoulder and with some biotic help flipped the mad woman ass over head on to the bed. The slick, silk sheets didn’t slow her enough to avoid banging her feet into the wall. The throw only proved a minor hindrance though and Shepard quickly recovered coming to kneel in the center of the bed. 

“You’re going to have to break me,” the woman challenged with beckoning hands.

“You humans are such uncivilized creatures.” Samara sauntered forward. “Requiring primitive shows of dominance.”

Shepard slid herself closer to meet her owner at bedside. “Oh, and what do you know of my people’s savage practices?”

“I have done research, so to properly control you,” the matriarch said with a wry smile as she hooked a pair of fingers in the D-ring of her human’s collar.

An ecstatic smile tore Shepard’s cheeks; her chest tightening, eyes lighting with anticipation. She couldn’t hold back too long or withstand one more moment of just speaking and made the first move. It was Samara’s turn to be tossed ass over head as an arm reached over her shoulder and the other through her legs to powerslam her back on to the bed. In a smooth, continued motion she floated over to get on top. She tightened her hold of the asari’s shoulders to capture another kiss, but she got greedy trying to also reach for the asari azure.

Not securing a solid enough hold gave Samara a chance to counter. She twisted her whole body and got herself on top. That didn’t last long as Shepard overpowered the asari to get back to the advantageous position. The two went back and forth several times trying to pin the other, the human having an edge as she had a specific goal in mind. The matriarch still had to decide on her course of action.

After taking a lap rolling around the mattress Shepard lifted the matriarch and pressed her against the wall, her mouth relentlessly seeking anything to lick, suck or nibble. Just as on the table, Samara gave in to the passionate tongue lapping at her for a moment. Again it took the grazing of her labia to snap out of it. Also repeated was the human drifting off to her own little world. 

Deciding this had to be put to an end, the asari stood up to gain leverage and wrapped her arm around the collared neck. Having locked in a guillotine choke, Samara became better able to dictate things. She spun them both around and fell back with Shepard’s head under her arm. She had to settle the woman down and knew the best way of going about it.

Finding her face in the mattress, Shepard immediately tried to fight out, but feet hooked together just above her butt to limit her options. Her arms flailed, trying to get a hold of something to reverse her predicament. The asari only tightened the python like grip. She settled down a few seconds to think and regroup. Her lust addled brain failed to figure anything out so she returned to trying to just power out.

Samara let the resistance continue a while before she felt it time to assert her dominance. Not letting up her hold she slipped her hand in between them. The struggling reignited as soon as fingers passed the navel, intensifying the further in they went until they reached the goal. As soon as a nail got wet a groan rumbled into her side. When one curled inside the arms that were trying to pull away collapsed. Slowly she began to massage the pink lips that she had so much experience manipulating.

Sensing them no longer needed, the matriarch relaxed her legs to make it easier to stimulate her pet’s clitoris. The muffled groans grew louder as the body melted. She could probably have let go and Shepard would have obediently let herself be fingered to orgasm, but the control this position gave was too enticing to sacrifice. She watched the sweat-soaked, straining back writhe as she continued the ministrations of the moist slit between the human’s legs. 

Strong arms clung to Samara as if she were the last life preserver from a sinking ship as the waves climbed. She sat up without lessening her hold so to reach greater depths. As close as her lips came, she couldn’t resist placing a series of kisses on the shoulder blade and dragging her tongue along the ridge of a flexed muscle as she broke the woman down, wringing out the orgasm she demanded. 

Not until Shepard went slack did Samara release her; taking the opportunity to slide out from under the limp body and the two took a quiet moment of recovery. The asari sat alongside the woman laying face down, gently rubbing her back as it rose and fell with each labored breath. After a minute or two she pulled her legs under her and switched hands, letting this one trail lower than the other to stroke sublimely firm buttocks.

“Is your little outburst over?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Shepard answered through pants.

“You will behave yourself?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You realize you will be punished for that?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But I do not wish to right now.” Samara hooked two fingers through the D-ring to pull her human up to be face to face. “No, right now I wish to take my pleasure from you.”

With a yank their lips met in a passionate embrace. Any time Shepard attempted to show any amount of dominance in the kiss or tried to grab for blue skin a tug to the collar corrected her. It took six such corrections before she learned her place and knelt obediently, letting the ancient tongue explore her mouth unhindered solely using her own to stimulate her owner’s. 

Only when the asari felt the woman had showed the proper submission for long enough did she laid them both down. Samara leaned against the pile of pillows in the corner. Once propped upon her throne like a queen she severed the oral connection and guided the eager human lower, not letting go of her grip on the collar.

As if she were little more than a masturbatory aid Shepard’s mouth was moved across scaled skin; licking, kissing and nibbling everything presented to her. Slowly she was dragged down the throat to the clavicle and further on to the beginning swell of the breast. She wanted to continue the same trajectory, but a yank sent her veering to the sternum. Having learned her lesson she only used her hands to brace herself against the bed, keeping them safely wide of the asari’s gorgeous form.

For a few breaths Samara kept the nuzzling and lapping at the space in between her soft mounds testing the human’s self control. Not feeling any independent movements she pulled outward to the first hint of her right breast, taking a spiral route around the nipple until the nub was finally reached from below. Immediately wanting lips latched on, sucking deeply before lightly biting and gently flicking. 

Shepard could have spent the rest of her life playing with the sensitive purple tip, but she was wanted elsewhere. Taking on a similarly indirect path, she was brought over to pleasure the other nipple. The hold on her collar remained ardent. With each ministration she could sense the asari relaxing further into the pillows until a final released sigh marked utter contentment.

It only took the slightest of downward tugs to get the woman to shutter in excited anticipation. There was no meandering, even if the pace was slow, to the next erogenous zone. Shepard wasn’t allowed to linger over the navel, only getting to swish her soft appendage around the rim and dip in once. The persistent pressure on her neck dragged her tongue across the flat shelf preceding the most divine place in the galaxy, as far as she was concern.

Lying down on her stomach, Shepard took a moment to build the anticipation up in her throat, nuzzling with her nose, before receiving her reward. She lapped along the outside if it like a lollipop for languishing minutes, not wanting to rush a thing. The fingers at her collar let go and slid along her cheek before coming to rest on the top of her head to pet the sweat dampened hair. Then with the pointed tip she flirted up and down the interior of the azure slit. Each swipe she put a touch more strength behind it until she tasted the inner lips. For several minutes more she used only her snaking tongue to worship her patient owner’s sex. Inevitably her attention focused at the small cluster of nerves at the top of the slit. 

Pink lips enclosed Samara’s clitoris, applying tantalizing suction. As Shepard intensified her affections, the matriarch continued combing through the mop of hair, trying to loosen the matted bangs. With enough strands liberated she turned her eyes to the ceiling a moment before shutting them. The woman slowly built her orgasm with loving care; grateful that asari and human anatomy had so much in common.

Eventually the desire for release rose to need. Samara reached for the collar to regain control and pulled up the confused woman, having never been asked to stop giving cunnilligus before. No matter how long Shepard went down on her she wouldn’t reach the highest of heights with only physical stimulation. In the future she would leave the human between her legs, but this time, the first time, she wanted their gazes to meet.

Not understanding what was going on, Shepard found herself entwining legs with the asari. A thigh pressed between hers and she did not hesitate to rub against it. The added texture of tiny scales made the friction that much better. She wasn’t given enough time to settle in before the fingers still holding the ring of her collar yanked her into another smothering kiss. A possessive grip groped her undulating rear.

“Embrace eternity,” and everything became blue light.

When Shepard awoke, though she had no idea if she ever actually loss consciousness, she found herself still atop the matriarch. Fingers delicately brushed through her hair and across her shoulders. Her head cradled in Samara’s ample bosom. She stretched a bit before wrapping her arms around the body she rested on, hoping having her arms under the asari’s back didn’t cause any discomfort.

After relishing the embrace for a few minutes Shepard asked, “Did we just join?”

“Yes,” Samara answered to the bulkhead over them. “I thought you told me you had done it before?”

“Kind of, when I was having a Prothean message descrambled. Didn’t know joining could also do that.” 

“You will be receiving plenty more lessons in joining and in asari physiology.”

“Can we start my next lesson now?” Shepard moaned before her mouth reached for a nipple to suckle.

Samara let the human play a little before she had to say, “Shepard, as much as I hate to admit; I am not as young as I used to be and need some time to recover.”

“What if I do all the work?” the young temptress asked with the sensitive nub still against her lower lip.

“Not even then.”

“Are you sure?” Shepard’s tongue flicked back and forth.

“I am.” The matriarch gave a small tug to the collar as a reminder. “Do not forget you already require punishment for your little stunt.”

The woman buried her face to contain a sudden burst of laughter, but still was able to get out, “You should have seen your face when I tore off my underwear.”

“Another word and you will sleep on the floor,” Samara threatened with a smile.


	6. Punishment

 

The missions had yet to renew since Shepard fell for Samara’s simple ruse, that’s most complicated component involved rearranging the predictable woman’s locker. Each morning the human awoke wrapped around her asari owner; the first up teasing the other into consciousness. Once they dragged away from the bed they ate, exercised and bathed. The thorough showers were often as tiring as the workouts. The afternoons then lazed by with little accomplished. Not long after dinner they’d head back to bed to exhaust themselves in order to start the cycle anew. The impromptu vacation became something of a honeymoon for the two.

Near a week in the collared human sat in the den’s plush armchair hard at work power-leveling her dwarven templar. For the past half hour she had heard rummaging from the far end of the lockers near the cockpit. She paid it little mind for if she was needed she’d be called. Nor did she prick an ear when the sounds turned to footsteps approaching or picked her eyes up from her omni-tool when movement passed through her periphery. The clunk of a box on the coffee table only got a flicking glance. It would take a direct question to grab her attention.

“What is this Shepard?” Samara asked as she sat down on the nearby couch.

The game closed immediately, the last auto save only a few minutes ago, and without the distraction she recognized the object. “It’s some of my personal effects from the Normandy, ma’am.”

The matriarch leaned forward to spin the container around so the hand written markings on the other side could be seen. “What does ‘LNT’ stand for?”

A slight blush shaded Shepard’s cheeks. “Late Night Toys.”

“A little old to be playing with toys, are you not?” Samara asked rhetorically as she opened the package and fished out an OSD. “What is this for?”

“It allows an omni-tool to control pretty much everything else in there,” she said as she gnawed on her lower lip feeling truly embarrassed for the first time since starting her new life.

“I see.” The programs were quickly installed. “I am not sure I recognize all these items. Perhaps you can educate me… starting with these.”

“Ankle restraints, ma’am,” she identified as they were placed on the table in front of her.

“How do they work?”

Shepard slid her socks off to secure the padded bindings around each ankle.

“These?”

“Wrist restraints, ma’am.” Without requiring a prompt this time, Shepard put them on.

“This?” Rather than handing it directly to the woman, she placed it just out of reach.

“Restraint belt, ma’am.” 

Shepard had to get up and stand across the table from her owner in order to reach the next bondage device. As the asari sat back, moving the box to a neighboring cushion, the human pulled her plain tee shirt over her head, revealing unencumbered breasts. Her cotton shorts and panties also had to go before the strip of leather, highlighted by the chrome chains hanging from either hip, could be secured around her waist.

Samara took a moment to appraise the human’s new look before producing the next item. “What about this?”

“K-Y jelly, ma’am.”

“What is its use?”

“It helps uhh…” Shepard tried for the least perverted word, but only thought of, “…insert some of the other things.”

“Let me see if I can find something for you to demonstrate with.” The asari searched for what seemed longer than necessary. “Will these work?”

“No, ma’am. Those are nipple clamps.”

“Oh well, show me how they work anyway.”

Shepard didn’t know why exactly, considering all she had done to and for her owner, but this seemed different. She didn’t usually think that much during sex, but now she had to really consider what she was doing. With everything else she was never the focus; it was either all about Samara or was at most evenly shared. Part of what she liked was being secondary and unnoticed. Even during her little ‘rewards’ she was usually clothed and even then felt ancillary. Never had she felt so exposed or on display; an exhibitionist she was not. What made it even worst was the knowledge of what still lay in store. 

Letting the small clips bite into her sensitive nipples heightened her self-consciousness. The first attempt at attaching them proved too painful and required readjustments. Each successive try at clipping them on only increased her performance anxiety. When she finally straightened up with her new adornments in place she noticed a thin, silver chain dangling from Samara’s fingers. She snatched them away, now knowing full well that the asari knew exactly what she was doing. The pair of clamps was easily strung together, so she had to wait a minute for her owner to find the next item.

The asari reached in the box, pretending not to know what would next come out. “How about this one? Will it require the use of the K-Y jelly?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Shepard couldn’t make eye contact as she continued, “That would be a butt plug.”

Helpfully, Samara slid the jar of jelly closer as she handed over the sex toy. After a deep breath through flared nostrils the growingly bound woman unscrewed the lid without picking it up. Then she scoped out a big glob, wanting utter assurance that it would be enough to accomplish the job. She spread the semi-opaque goo over the entire tip and rim, careful to leave the base untouched; she didn’t want anything hampering its removal when the time came. Considering everything a moment, she took a second helping to apply directly to her rear entry.

As the coated fingers headed south, the reclining matriarch interrupted, “It will be a challenge to see what you are doing from this angle.”

“Okay,” Shepard said quietly.

“What’s wrong?” The human’s smaller voice not going unnoticed.

“It’s just kind of embarrassing,” the fidgeting woman responded. “Plus I haven’t actually ever used this thing nor really done anything in that area before.”

“There is no reason to be embarrassed with me. I will not judge you or think any less of you. Just take your time and go at your own pace,” Samara reassured with a smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” her mood elevated, but nerves remained racked over still being watched.

Shepard turned around and bent forward to display herself. Not able to put on much of a show, she reached back to apply the substance just as she would medi-gel to a wound. A shiver ran the length of her spine when the lubricant first touched her sphincter. With more care than needed she smoothed a coating all around before holding her breath to push a single finger inside up to the second knuckle. She pumped it in and out a few times then added another uncomfortable digit to stretch herself out.

At first she tried with just one hand to insert the plug, but quickly learned she required the other to properly line it up. Her face contorted with effort and focus. Involuntary grunts accompanied every movement she made. After a couple false starts, the tip pushed passed the ring of muscles. Then she steeled herself to force the object inside her with one concentrated thrust, making sure to stop when the base touch her rear.

Mission accomplished she awkwardly stood up and turned around. Facing her owner, Shepard shifted her weight and squirmed like she would trying to work out a wedgie. The sensation of having something lodged up her rectum wasn’t quite as bad as she thought, but was still supremely weird and uncomfortable. Once she had settled she gave a slight nod to communicate she could continue.

Samara next plucked an egg from the box, honestly not having a clue as to its use. “This one?”

“It’s a vibrator, ma’am.” Shepard answered still wiggling her hips. 

“I guess this one will have to wait for later,” the asari said with a hint of disappointment.

“Actually,” the woman interrupted wanting to do anything to please her owner, though hesitant over the inevitable outcome. “There is a mount in there to attach it to the plug and anchor it in place.”

With an amused grin Samara’s hand darted into the box and pulled out the only thing she didn’t recognize. She handed both devices over and watch with peaked interest as the human began fiddling. The crescent shaped plastic had a short fin on its inside, which lightly attached to the vibrator. Then she inserted the egg into her pussy. Careful to line everything up Shepard pressed a small button that unified all three toys into one, adding a black codpiece to her BDSM outfit.

Again she nervously informed, “There is a command under the ‘mount’ directory that will make sure everything stays in place.”

The matriarch immediately put the new information to use. It took several seconds and as many button presses, but soon the two internal objects slightly expanded and a light suction took hold of the human’s nethers. Watching the flinches and twitches as the devices firmed their positions proved quite entertaining for the asari. So she waited for stillness before moving on.

“Why are there loose lengths of chain?” Samara asked as she pulled one out.

“The directory labeled ‘restraints’ will explain better than I could.”

So the matriarch’s attention returned to the floating, holographic screen a moment. Each sentence read increased the smile across violet lips. She tossed the low gauge chain at Shepard’s feet then selected a command from the list. Either end jumped to connect to a different ankle restraints to hobble the woman. Another selection caused the links dangling from the belt to attach to the wrist shackles. With that her human was fully bound.

“What is this?” Samara asked as she pulled a long, leather strip taut between her balled hands.

“A leash, ma’am.” Shepard’s smile returned.

Seeing as she was the only one able to raise her arms higher than her navel, the matriarch stood and approached the entirely subdued human. A brief moment’s planning made her move the late-night, toy box to the coffee table while still within reach. Their eyes locked as she clipped an end on to the collar. She then decided to give a quick test and wound it around her fist to give a sharp tug.

Tipped by the directory list, Samara asked, “Which of these can be attached to the mount?”

Shepard peered down into the box and answered, “The black one, ma’am.”

The asari grabbed the mentioned dildo. She brought it up to eye level to study before pointing it at the woman. Without needing to give an order, lips parted and she slipped the faux dick into Shepard’s mouth. Lazily she pressed it in until encountering the most minor of resistance before pulling it back out. One more soft thrust satisfied her, so she lowered it to attach to the mount; locking it in place with her omni-tool.

Samara then took out an item that gave her pause. “What is this one?”

“It’s a zentai mask, ma’am.”

With some misgivings she prodded the completely featureless hood and asked, “And you will be able to breathe in it?”

“Yes, ma’am. I won’t be able to see or talk and you’ll have to get real close for me to hear you, though.”

The lack of concern from the soon to be wearer slated Samara’s worry and after a chaste kiss slid the mask on to cover everything above the collar. It was remarkable how dehumanizing the single piece of fetish gear was. She gave a cliché wave inches from the confined face as a vision test. Taking a step back she appraised her young pet adorn in well placed bondage items. She gave the nipple chain a tug, eliciting a muffled groan, then one to the mounted dildo, getting a slightly better moan.

Having taken to wearing more casual attire since questioning her status as a Justicar, the matriarch shed her loose robe without needing to sacrifice her hold of the leash. She grabbed one last item from the box to toss over to the bed before returning her attention to the hobbled woman. Circling around behind, away from the protrusion in front, she pressed her bare body to Shepard’s. Her free hand drifted down to take a healthy hold of a firm buttock. Her research into human culture gave her clues into how to properly use it, but that could wait, she had other designs at the moment.

Samara took the slack from the leash until her fingers were a scant three inches from her human’s collar. As much to savoir the act of domination as to prevent a tumble she took her time to the bed. Once on the mattress she used a raised hand to stop Shepard from following. She crawled further in, giving length back to the cord so she could find her preferred spot before allowing the woman on.

A subdued tug got Shepard to follow onto the bed. Knee-walking forward, she used the limited reach of her hands to seek any part of the asari. Unable to see, she proceeded with extremely cautious, which didn’t bother her owner as she leaned back to enjoy the view, using it as inspiration to warm herself up. After a minute of blind searching with only her finger tips she felt a delicately scaled shin. She followed her discovery up to the softer thigh. Once she found her way close enough a firm grip took hold of the fake dick attached to her pelvis to guide it to the proper place.

The phallus sunk in with a slow, delightful thrust until it could go no further. Limited in options, Shepard’s hands slipped around the thigh on either side of her. Propped on the pile of pillows that had become near a permanent fixture, Samara put an arm behind her head as she settled into the most pleasing position she could find. A slight tug to the leash and the woman’s hips began to work; finding an easy pace in short order.

The hooded head hung submissively. The woman could only use her sense of touch to know where to go and her barely effective hearing to deduce from the sounds the matriarch made how well she was doing. The odd sensation of having the plug and egg within her was forgotten as all that mattered was pleasuring her owner. The clamp on each nipple also went by the weigh side until a jerk to the chain connecting them reminded her; sending a sharp pain through her, but barely affected her rhythm.

After many minutes of leisurely coitus Samara felt the need to elevate things. She pulled the leash of the human reduced to little more than a sex toy. The bound form collapsed onto her body, the mask pressing to her shoulder. With this new position Shepard found greater confidence in her motions and increased speed, humping away like a dog against a leg. The matriarch wrapped her arms around the one pleasuring her, cradling the hooded head with both hands.

When the next plateau was reached the asari tightened her grip and rolled them both over. Once on top she took control of the ferocity of their union. Her hips bounced vigorously on the woman reduced even further to that of the mounting base for the dildo she was using. The only concern in her millennial old mind her own nearing climax, keeping that mind to herself this time. Without melding an asari couldn’t reach the absolute summit of orgasms, but then again neither could a human; the only difference was that the ancient race could initiate the joining. Still the alien rode her trapped pet at a feverous pace until warmth and joy washed away the galaxy.

Shepard could do little as the matriarch took her pleasure. The bindings holding her wrists gave enough so she could grope straining thighs, but she couldn’t feel much more. The only other skin she touched was the bits of her hips that stayed in contact for a fraction of a second on the down stroke. None of her remaining senses could give her a clear picture of what was happening either. Just the sounds of slapping flesh could penetrate the hood, and just barely. Her only clue that her asari owner had reached her blissful conclusion was the sudden slowing of the pounding against her.

As Samara lagged into gentle rocking she fell forward, not even noticing the clamps Shepard wore poking her breasts. Applying greater pressure than normal to compensate for the nylon barrier she placed kisses all over the covered face, as she grinded out the trailing end of her orgasm before going completely limp.

After having recovered enough, Samara dismounted and surveyed the woman drenched in more of the asari’s sweat than her own. She then opened her omni-tool to release the two sets of shackles and then retrieved the yet to be utilized restraint. With a few deft movements she placed everything, including Shepard, where she desired. Another a few commands the human’s wrists locked together then to one end of the former hobbling chain. The link at the other end magnetized to the wall. Finally, the unused item from the box, a spreader bar, attached to the ankles.

The matriarch in charge bent in close, “Can you hear me, Shepard?”

She could only nod in response.

“I have thoroughly enjoyed myself and wish to ‘return the favor’ as you humans say.” Samara gently petted well-defined abs that tensed under her touch. 

The hand playing around Shepard’s navel trailed up between her breasts and over to lightly tweak the small device biting her nipple. She desperately wanted to beg her owner for more.

“I really wish I could,” the asari huskily whispered directly into the covered ear. “However, I cannot forget your little stunt the other day.”

The human’s entire body went ridged in fear.

“Although, you have been such an obedient pet up until that incident. So you have earned some leniency and I will forgo punishing you this time.”

Hope sprung.

“But, I believe you still need some time to meditate on the error of your ways.” 

Samara placed a strong kiss on covered lips before pulling away. Leaving the completely bound woman behind she fetched her discarded clothing before adjourned to the cockpit to begin searching for a new mission. About half way across the den she paused, as if a thought had just struck her, and opened her omni-tool to enter a last command. She heard a surprised, muffled grunt from the bed as the vibrator and butt plug started humming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


End file.
